Another Intellectual Being

Archive for August, 2009

The Paradoxical Truth

On a wintry December night, Rachelle sat at the window of the old orphanage which had been her home for the last seventeen years. But now she was of age, she had to step out and face the real world on her own. Slowly tears made their way from her eyes to her lips and died. She was pretty, fair and definitely a girl, any man would fancy. But she was scared, of the world, of the ills that would befall her, of the lust in the minds of men. She picked up her bag and took to the streets. Probing through the streets, the dark alleyways with outmost caution. All around she could see only dark morbidity and haunting of the nether world. Her intuition told her that there was a certain surety of losing herself, her purity. She chanced furtive glances to her back. She was being followed, but not by men, rather by beasts who stood in the wake of the men. The men who had succumbed to a fate worse than death. She quickened her step and her heart beat faster, in a rather delirious trance. Suddenly she stopped. She was boxed in and the street didn’t have the faintest trace of light. She closed her eyes fearing for the worst and the worst was exactly what came to be. She felt a hand on her breast. Then there was a tussle of clothes, throwing of arms, screams and endless pain. And then it was all black. The men walked away, satisfied and pleased. But her mind and body were numb, she felt used, wasted and scarred. She was smeared in blood from waist down and incredible pain rippled through her womb. Her pretty clothes were no more than sodden rags dirtied with blood and grime. Her face was wane, almost ashen like a corpse. Her soul had died but her body refused to. A singled word echoed in her mind, Revenge. She stood up and began to walk. Limping she slowly parked herself onto a bench. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Was life, as she had dreamt of, as she had heard stories of and as she had seen in the movies, a distant lie? She succumbed to her pain, with one last furtive glance at  the night sky. The moon looked beautiful, but scarred.

Her eyes opened to a fogged and misty morning. Trying to sit up straight she felt a hand on her shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine and she stood up, ready to kill. She looked back to the man who had touched her. He was dressed in pure white linen. She looked up and their eyes met. There was a certain mesmer in his eyes. She was lost in the farthest reaches of his soul. The man took her hand and started walking, she mutely followed. The man led her to an impeccable white chamber. He held her in his arms and they kissed. Rachelle was certain that she felt uncontrollable love for this man she had just met. Sparks of passion flew between their bodies and they finally gave in to the lust that had filled their minds. They made love to each other all day and night. It was almost morning when they finally tired and lay down to sleep in each other’s arms. Rachelle looked out the window and into the early traces of dawn. The moon was waning, but so was it crescent and bore hope in its midst.

The first rays of the sun danced upon Rachelle’s lips and flirted with her eyes. Disturbed she turned to the other side, to hold the man she loved. She reached for him but all she found was empty space. She opened her eyes, accepting the truth. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She did not even know his name. She sat up on the bed and cried. The graveness of the reality sent shockwaves through her body. She shook from head to toe, much like the orgasms, which had rocked her last night. Every inch of her body begged to die. But her mind was firm. She had to live, if not for herself then for the baby that would soon be in her womb. She knew what she would have to do to sustain her baby. She would sell herself, every night, sell what made her proud once. Sell herself to feed herself and the child in her womb. The burden wasn’t hers. She wasn’t ready. She had no choice. She looked at the sky. The moon was dead.

Seven months had passed since she was gifted with a child her in her womb. She was in pain, in Labour. The midwife was trying her best to comfort Rachelle, the delivering mother. The last and the loudest cry erupted from her mouth and she looked down to see the mid wife holding a blood covered baby. The midwife bit off the umbilical cord, washed the baby, wrapped him in clean linen and handed her to Rachelle. She looked down at the baby, unsure of its father. Was it one of those monsters on the street or was it that gentleman? Or maybe one of the men she had sold herself to night after night? She did not know for certain but it was her little baby girl and she wanted to protect the baby with even her life. The pain of labour had tired her beyond doubt. She laid the babe in the cot beside her bed and went off to sleep. She was woken up by the midwife several hours later. The midwife looking very harried and puzzled, scared too. Rachelle looked down into the baby’s cot and found it empty. She knew that fate was not on her side, she knew that she would never see the baby again, she just wished that the baby would be happy wherever she was. She decided then and there, that she no longer wanted to be a woman. She wanted her memory to be gone too. But she decided to leave one reminder of her past life and etched the date, on which she had met the gentleman, onto her arm. She consulted many a doctor about her decision but most were appalled at the thought. Finally one Doctor agreed to do it. The operation was possible and the money that she had earned was enough for it. She walked into the Operation Room to return changed forever. She searched for the moon from the window by the Operation Room. The moon was full but hidden by mist.

Jake woke up inside a white room. He had no recollection of anything. He could read and speak however. And he only remembered one name Jake. He was certain that the Doctor had put it in his mind. He knew that something was wrong. He felt like a scapegoat. But he soon forgot to pay attention to his intuition. He spent the next twenty years of his life raping women, stealing money and murdering for loot. He had one of the things he most despised, a greedy old bastard. Of late he had been drinking heavily and gambling regularly. He was running high on alcohol and low on money. One fateful December night he met a black robed man in a bar, the most unlikely of places. He got drunk and told him all that was wrong with his  life. The robed man was noble and suggested that Jake join the time corps. A company of men who safeguard the past, present and future. The men had to lose a small price for so much power, they had to lose their memories. But that wasn’t a problem with Jake. He didn’t have any memories in the first place. But still he had to undergo the process. The pain was nothing compared to the feeling of being a Lord of Time. He served very obediently for 10 years without even a single dent in his image.  But one night he saw the date etched on his arm. He had a sudden urge to travel back to that date and his inquisitiveness took control of him. Within seconds he reached the exact co-ordinates on his arm. It was a cold and foggy morning.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a beautiful girl. She looked cold and bewildered. He went upto her and put a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met and lust simply filled his mind.  He wanted her and got her quite easily. They mad love for a long long time. Once the girl fell asleep he slipped away. Suddenly the time keeper on his wrist started rolling on its own. It was several months from the day he had gone to. He heard a louc cry and looked into the room beside him. A lady had just given birth. He looked at her face and realization dawned upon him. The moment the woman fell asleep, Jake took the child and went back seventeen years and seven months exactly. He left the child at the doorstep of a big house, knocked at the door and ran away so that he couldn’t be seen.

He went thirty eight years into the future and entered a bar for a drink. He had barely taken a sip when a man of about 40 entered  the bar. He was shocked and the sight numbed his brain. He recovered and joined the man for a drink. The man downed a few bottles and started blurting out everything about his life. Jake knew what he had to do, he told the man about the Time Corps. Interested the man left a while later. Jake went out of the bar, he had unclogged his memory. Everything came back to him crystal clear. He had finally solved the puzzle and had but one option. He travelled 10 years further into the future, into his own time. He searched for a dark alleyway and slit his throat.

Somewhere Mrs. Pennigan heard a knock on her door. She looked at the  clock, it was midnight. She was disturbed and marched towards the door. She opened the door but there was no one to be seen. Just then she heard a moan and looked down. She picked up the little baby girl and held her in her arms. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at the baby. She had a perfect name for her. ‘Rachelle.’

On The 63rd Anniversary Of Independence


“Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India and her people and to the still larger cause of humanity.”

That was the speech given by Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru on the eve of the Indian Independence, 14th of August, 1947 at midnight. The British were still on the verge of leaving India. There was much political and social unrest in the country. India was left divided into many small countries and the separation of India and Pakistan was the masterstroke in felling the unity of India. But it wasn’t done by the British; it was strategized by our own Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru with the aid of Lady Mountbatten. Pandit Nehru, aware of his High Treason, set about playing the tunes of “Hindu-Muslim Bhai Bhai”, Secularism, adoration of Gandhi and his Ahimsa Parmo Dharma, lulling the people into accepting his Dynasty as the legitimate and rightful rulers of India for ever. Thus he could successfully prevent any inquisitive patriotic eyes from probing into his treacherous role at Partition. The first images right after independence were the horrible images of riots in Bengal and Punjab–millions killed, homeless and deported out of India to Pakistan. India was massacred, communal riots broke about, wars started off between the princely states and much was under threat. Then a man of iron will and resolute vice set out to unite the country, a man named Sardar Ballavbhai Patel the Iron Man of India. But he too was a pawn in the hands of a greater political power, the man set out to be the father of our nation, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. But that was a long time ago, much has changed, they say. Has it really?

The truth about these great men are out. And the sources quite surprisingly are their own kin. What Attenborough did not say in “Gandhi”, Rajmohan Gandhi surely did describe. An avalanche of material cascaded into libraries. Dr. B.T. Singh and Dr. Watson investigated and described in detail the records which clearly showed the racism of Mohandas Gandhi. The truth was out.

Gandhi’s limitations as a family man. Where the world sees a saint, Rajmohan Gandhi sees a cruel husband and a mostly absent father, paying scant attention to his children’s schooling and dragging wife Kasturba across continents at will, belittling her desire for the simplest of material possessions, then expecting her to comply when he turns from amorous husband to platonic companion to apparent adulterer. Gandhi took on a magnetic personality in the presence of young women, and was able to persuade them to join him in peculiar experiments of sleeping and bathing naked together, without touching, all apparently to strengthen his chastity. (Whether these experiments were always successful is anyone’s guess.) It is also revealed that Gandhi began a romantic liaison with Saraladevi Chaudhurani, niece of the great poet Rabindranath Tagore—a disclosure that has created a buzz in the Indian press. The author tells us that Gandhi, perhaps disingenuously, called it a “spiritual marriage,” a “partnership between two persons of the opposite sex where the physical is wholly absent.”

It is generally considered, as expressed for example in The Times of 15 August 1947, that if ‘the gigantic surgical operation’ constituted by the partition of India, has not led to bloodshed of much larger dimensions, Gandhi’s teachings, the efforts of his followers and his own presence, should get a substantial part of the credit.

“Mr. Gandhi told his prayer meeting to-night that, though he had always opposed all warfare, if there was no other way of securing justice from Pakistan and if Pakistan persistently refused to see its proved error and continued to minimise it, the Indian Union Government would have to go to war against it. No one wanted war, but he could never advise anyone to put up with injustice. If all Hindus were annihilated for a just cause he would not mind. If there was war, the Hindus in Pakistan could not be fifth columnists. If their loyalty lay not with Pakistan they should leave it. Similarly Muslims whose loyalty was with Pakistan should not stay in the Indian Union.”

All now blame these great leaders for the condition of our country. They played political power games to fill their coffers and impose their leadership and destroyed the country in the most brutal way.

In due course of time Nehru Dynasty acquired so much power over the people of India that more of them saw their salvation in worshipping Nehru and his politically convenient mentor Gandhi, rather than questioning his role at Partition or his secularism and morality. The Gandhi’s, as the Nehru Dynasty came to be known to further mislead and fool the people as to their real genealogy and ideology, had a paranoia about freedom of speech. They controlled the media, particularly broadcasting, that is crucial in an
illiterate country like India, and closely watched any journalist and editor “stepping beyond the line”. They put their foot down on 1947 and all what happened to the ordinary people of India in that year.

Whatever was to smear their fair name in the world was ruthlessly eliminated or crushed. Some dare devil democrats and champions of freedom of speech were severely punished during the Emergency declared by Pandit Nehru’s daughter in 1975. It was a hammering that was to keep the nation’s head down for another quarter of a century.

2000 was claimed to the new dawn for India. India was supposed to make rapid progress in the new millennium. Much nothing much changed. The same things kept happening. Terrorism, Political Treaties, Anti-Pakistan Charters, re-election and the cycle kept rolling over again and again. Much is the same now. As I here write on the day of the 63rd Anniversary of The Independence of Our nation. The political system is still stuck up with personal gains rather than betterment of our country. Now even the citizens have stopped caring. They just say ‘Dude, nothing’s going to happen. It’s India after all.’ But I am extremely patriotic, and I believe that something can happen; we can surely do something to wipe that smirk of every guy’s face who thinks India lies down in the dumps. Speak out, Shout out. Be a change. You will forever be oppressed, massacred and murdered by the evil dictators. But being mute spectators makes you no less guilty of the condition that our country is in today. Take the blame on your shoulders, carry the burden and wipe the stain that violates our dear mother land in so brutal a way. In the words of Bhagat Singh,

“The aim of life is no more to control the mind, but to develop it harmoniously; not to achieve salvation here after, but to make the best use of it here below; and not to realise truth, beauty and good only in contemplation, but also in the actual experience of daily life; social progress depends not upon the ennoblement of the few but on the enrichment of democracy; universal brotherhood can be achieved only when there is an equality of opportunity – of opportunity in the social, political and individual life.”

And then in the words of Subhash Chandra Bose,

“Nationalism is inspired by the highest ideals of the human race, satyam [the true], shivam [the god], sundaram [the beautiful]. Nationalism in India has … roused the creative faculties which for centuries had been lying dormant in our people.”

Parts Of Content Sourced From Wikipedia,, Encarta, Britannica and excerpts from The Times and the book by Rajmohan Gandhi.

The Ultimate Group Of Friends

I’ve been looking for a good controversial topic to blog on for the last hour but couldn’t find anything controversial enough. So now I’ve decided to write a post to tell you a little about my gang from college. Their photos will be up by the next post.

Jeeshan Khetrapal: I actually met him on the 2nd day of college. Seemed like a fun guy. Turned out that he was just as I expected. He’s kind of wacky in a good sort of way. And there are times when he’s hopping mad like today at college. He began strangling me in the middle of the road. And everybody was watching. What for? Just because he was embarrassed of his leg hair. Phew! Dude don’t worry you can always say that Vampire have more. And here i most certainly refer to his ugliness Edward Cullen. 😛

Vanya Rajput: She was elected as one of the Class Reps. So at first I was really scared of her. What if she turned out to be the complaining type? What if she was barking mad? And I really freaked out when one of my class mates was returning a paper plane and it hit her. I was totally worried as to what she’s going to do. I kept apologising. Turned out that she said it was all fine. And all the questions floating about in my mind were untrue. She was genuinely very sweet and cute. Well yeah she is kind of Nerdy, but not always. And she also does kind of do the work in class, but that’s ok, atleast there is someone I can copy all the work from. But she’s damn sweet and an awesome human being.

Astha Joshi: The re-incarnation of Phoolan Devi. Nah. Just kidding. She’s a nice and sweet girl too. She’s fultoo chilled out. Has the capability to do extremely wacko things. But has been restraining herself till now. Complete Dhokebaaz for leaving us in the middle of a week and heading home to Chattisgarh to recuperate from her Viral. Not done. I’m still partially angry.

Rupali Agarwal: Jai Mata Di. Lol. She’s the youngest of our gang. Almost by a year. And definitely quite a bit spoilt. We unwillingly give in to her whimsies. Stressing on the word “Unwillingly” But she’s like really intelligent and all. She got 100 in 12th, out of 100 mind you. And she got overall 91%. That is so crazy. Damn she’s clever and talented. Woo Hoo!!

Lalit Upadhyay: He’s the dude from Patna, Bihar. The only person in my friends’ circle who plays Billiards and that too somewhat professionally. His hairstyle uncannily resembles Salman Khan’s in Tere Naam. And that too after a Rs.1500 haircut from Loreal. Or was it that you wanted that style? Lol! Just joking dude. He’s a cool dude too. Makes the most amusing comments in class and makes everyone burst into laughter. Funny!

Ishaan ( Nand Kishore Awasthi) Chawla: He’s almost a rockstar. Goatee brother. And Ice Tea brother too. His life for that matter is going to take a sad turn, if it goes just like we guys planned. He’s a fun guy with completely laid back easy going attitude much like mine. So holler brother!

Sanjana Kapoor: The Padhakoo Keeda. She’s always either doing sums or reading books or something studious. But she’s one of the best dancers I have seen. Awesomely talented and super cute.

Shruti Sethi: Ever smiling but doesn’t speak much. Is that all I have to say about her? OMG!! That’s crazy! I’ll make it a point to get to know her more now.

Vishakha Singhal: Omg! She just keeps talking non-stop. On and on and on and on. But she’s this really very sweet and friendly girl. Never pauses to compliment someone. Totally free nature, no twists and turn and crevices. Pure and honest personality. One of the nicest people in class, definitely.

Nandini Singh: The newest addition to our gang. Apparently she got bored of her gang and came over to ours. And we being extremely cool took her in. No! Its nothing like that. She’s a nice person too. Quite interesting and certainly very interested about Zodiacs. I’m so going to gift you a Zodiac book on your B’day.

I guess that sums it up. But there are chances that this post might get updated or modified real soon. Anyways take care. Chau.

Pretty Girl, Here and There.

Is there a dearth of pretty girls in this world? I sure hope not. But still I haven’t crossed paths with as many as i’d want to. Not to say that I haven’t someone who took my heart away. There was this ….. umm…… One time…..I guess. No wait, it hasn’t happened yet, oh jesus. Ahh well what’s left is to think whether to rest everything on fate or go out there and find someone. I have certainly been waiting for the last 6 years to get into a serious sort of relationship. Hasn’t worked out yet so I should probably walk out there. But what should I do or say? I just can’t go upto pretty girls and ask them out, i’ll be full of scars soon. That’s too risky. I have seen even the biggest jerks scoring the nice and sweet girl. And when their hearts get broken they blame us guys in generally, calling us desperate arseholes. She just chose the wrong guy, but no one would tell her that. And the next time again she’ll pick the biggest jerk. Why not give us nice guys a chance. Personally all i’ve ever heard from a girl is ‘I never thought about you like that’ or ‘It can’t work’ Come on girls, ‘Yes’ is a single syllable and takes much less effort. But heck you people never learn. I hope I don’t appear like desperate wannabe to any pretty girl reading this. Its not that desperate to get serious with a girl and do it all. I just want to experience how love actually feels or how good we feel when that special someone is with us. That’s all I want. And all I ever got is hurt and rejections. Ahh leave it. Its never going to work out. I’ll keep enjoying my single status. You pretty girls carry on getting heart-broken by those false jerks. Chau.

Beginning of a Life In The Land of Statues

Even though I have no persistent and ardent readers, i’m sure some of you may be wondering how my life in Amity is going on. I most certainly won’t disappoint you regarding that.

Amity most certainly has a very big college campus going by NCR standards. It is situated just 15mins from Atta Market and barely 5 minutes from Kalindi Kunj. My department however is in sector 125, the bigger of the two Amity campuses.

So the first day as you all would have already read was hectic. The second consisted of briefings by the HoI and others. We were also introduced to our faculty, admin and mentors. This was followed by auditions for the talent hunt. I had this urge to sign up for all the competitions which included Choreo, Music – Vocals & Instrumentals, Creative Writing, Acting, Extempore and Fine Arts. But somehow I felt it would have been too proud and boastful a move.

So I signed up for Instrumental Music and Creative Writing. Surprisingly or not, that I don’t know, I didn’t win either. I was given a topic as messed up as ‘College is the reset button of our lives’ on the very first day of college. I kept going over the same points in the essay, I couldn’t find the room for creativity in the topic though, i’m not complaining though.

Then when I went for the Instrumental Audiion the teacher kept staring at me. I hadn’t brought my keyboard since it weighs 25 kilos but I found out that a friend had brought his. So I decided to play on it. I put on some techno beats and started playing trance, but the ugly @#$%& stopped me asked me to play piano. I stared at her blankly and tried to play what I could recollect of What I’ve Done, I sucked big time.

The auditions were over and I knew I was out. Had I got through to the finals, it would have been more catastrophic, I didn’t remember any other song on the piano. After the finals were over we were let off. I was shit tired and collapsed on my bed just after I reached home. Did I mention we aren’t allowed to wear casuals in college? We are supposed to wear shirts and trousers.

Then third day was industry interactions and I swear I had never been so bored in my entire life. Everybody was talking about placements after B.Tech when I had already to do a master’s. These entrepreneurs are crazy. ( To be related with Obelisk’s favourite phrase: ‘These Romans are Crazy.’) I had to bear continous lectures for a rime span of 3 & 4 hours before and after lunch respectively. Insane I say.

Then the HoI told us that we all had failed in the surprise proficiency test. Wasn’t it obvious already? Anyways it was required for us to take the bridge classes, for recap of 11th & 12th. We later found out that these classes were for the faculty to get to know us. No studies for two more days, except the maths teacher who made us start on differenciation.

Then the actual classes started from monday. I was put in the 2nd batch, CS2. Thankfully the two friends I had made were in this batch too. We sat together and enjoyed. Slowly and steadily the ice started breaking and the masks started fading away, we could see our classmates as what they actually were.

I struck up a friendship with the ClassRep who was and still is undoubtedly one of the sweetest girls in my class, her name being Vanya Rajput. Then I started talking to two more wonderful ladies, Astha and Rupali. And our group kept growing and growing. It now consists of Jeeshan, Vanya, Astha, Rupali, Lalit, Ishan, Shruti, Sanjana, Vishakha and a few more about whom i’m not sure which group they belong to. And ya, don’t forget me, i’m in the group too. Well that is a recap of all that happened till now. I didn’t however go into the finer details. Anyways take care people. Chau.